


Biased

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Issues, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Mage Rebellion, Meet the Family (kinda), Post-Game, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Wintersend (Dragon Age), balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Corypheus has been defeated for a year and to celebrate Wintersend Josephine arranged for the Inquisition to host a ball at Skyhold. When Inquisitor Lark Trevelyan is running late Josie sends Cullen to find his beloved and figure out why she's taking so long.





	Biased

“She’s late,” Josephine murmured to Cullen who glanced to the stairs that led up to the Inquisitor’s room.

“I’ll go see what’s wrong,” he agreed – eager to abandon the opening act of the ball. Hosting a Summerday ball in Skyhold had been a terrible idea in his opinion. Even with the threat of Corypheus a year gone and the remnants of the Venatori disappearing into the North having so many strangers was still a security risk.

He’d expected to find Lark hunched over her desk, lost in last minute paperwork. She was nearly as bad as he was about snatching minutes here and there to tackle it and then losing track of the time.

Instead she was in front of her mirror, lip caught between her teeth and apparently torturing her hair.

Lark had had long hair before the Conclave, she’d cut it to the short length – just above her shoulders - that it was today just after Cassandra had declared the Inquisition. He could still remember staring the first time he’d seen the new style and wondering what had happened to the tons of red curls that had previously framed her face.

Of course all he’d managed to _say_ about it was ‘You cut it.’ and make the mage feel self-conscious.

Maker, they’d been so awkward with each other in those early days.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed, looking back at him, letting her hands drop before she turned back to glaring at her reflection for not cooperating. “Nothing looks right. I can’t…I should’ve let Josie hire a dresser or let her or Leliana do it.”

“You look fine, Lark,” he crossed the room to her.

She was fussing more than she had before the ball where she’d had to simultaneously save Celene’s life, impress Orlais, and end a civil war. Josephine was building alliances and garnering favor tonight and Leliana had the Game to play but apart from minding their manners the rest of the Inquisition leadership was meant to spend the holiday enjoying it.

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing I…uh, might have neglected to tell you something,” she cringed. Her violet eyes dropping to the floor but she turned away from the mirror to him so he could put her arms around her – careful not to muss the fine gown that Vivienne had helped the Inquisitor had made for that night. “My family’s coming. And I…” she trailed off again. “It’s stupid.”

“Your family’s here?” Cullen pulled back, startled. Well, not startled, truthfully, he was far closer to alarmed: He hadn’t expected to meet them. Well he _had_ , but not that night. But…that wasn’t important just then.

There _had_ been a Bann Trevelyan on the guest list. But there were several Bann Trevelyan’s. The Trevelyan’s were a rather large Marcher clan and it was not unusual for Lark’s more distant relations to visit Skyhold. One of her brothers had joined the Inquisition in those early days, but Leo wasn’t who she’d be fretting about.

 “All of them, well almost. Mama’s going to be here. And Papa. Luke and Lori too. Lowie didn’t come, but no surprise there.”

Lowell Trevelyan disliked everyone and everything on principle from what little Cullen had heard about the family’s middle child from his younger two siblings. None of them expected him to accept an invitation from Lark.

Not that any of them had truly expected the entirety of the Trevelyan Clan to come either.

“You’re not happy to see them?”

“I am, but I just…” she tucked her head against Cullen’s shoulder, her voice muffled by the fancy tailored jacket that he’d been forced into by Josie. “I don’t want to disappoint them again, Cullen. I broke Mama’s heart because I was a mage and then I was a rebel.”

The Trevelyan’s were a religious family. Lark was supposed to join the Templar Order – it’d been considered an honorable position for the youngest child of the family, and she had said she was eager to follow her eldest brother on that path. Or – if the warrior’s path had not suited her (or if Lark’s mother had managed to talk her out of it) – there had been a talks of a betrothal with the son of some Orelsian house.

 The explosive manifestation of her powers had definitively ended both her chances to bring the family honor as a Templar _and_ insured that she would be unable to marry as a noblewoman.

“Lark,” he said gently into her hair. Now that she’d gotten her arms wrapped around him there’d be no dislodging her to get her to meet his gaze, much as he would’ve preferred to make sure she could see the sincerity on his face. "You’re not a disappointment, not to them, not to anyone.”

“….you’re biased,” she muttered, her arms tightening a little more.

“You survived the Mage-Templar war, you survived the Conclave, you _ended_ that war, closed the Breach, ended _another_ war, defeated Corypheus,” her arms loosened and she shifted back just enough to look up at him. “You’re beautiful and kind and a brilliant chess player.”

The blush across her cheeks made him smile and he moved one of his hands from her back to cup her cheek.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

She tilted her head into her touch, a little sigh escaping her lips. Before she straightened a little, meeting his gaze like he’d just asked her if she was ready to storm Adamant again: “Okay. Okay. Just…help me fix my hair, please? Josie’s going to kill me if I’m any later.”

“Probably,” he laughed, kissing her lovingly before he let her go and gently fixed her hair with his fingers so that the curls were mostly ordered and none were sticking up at strange angles.

Then he fetched a flower crown that had been left on the pile of books on her desk, Andraste’s grace and some blue flower whose name he didn’t know had been woven together by one of the children in Skyhold.

He’d spotted Lark wearing it earlier that day while she was running errands around the keep as Inquisitor Trevelyan and was glad to see it was still vibrant. He had his suspicions that Lark had laid one of the more frivolous necromancy spells that Dorian had taught her on them to keep them from wilting too quickly.

He set it on her crown and couldn’t help the smile that pulled on his lips.

“Perfect.”

“ _Biased_.”

He chuckled softly, pulling her back in for another kiss. With a smile he murmured against her lips:  “I suppose I am.”


End file.
